Mr. Vanier: I don't know whether around here you have some normal people, but I find them a very strange group. I don't know—I remember—well, one of the characteristics of normal people is that they have problems. They have family problems, they have financial problems, they have professional problems, problems with politics, problems with church, problems all over the place. And I remember one very normal guy came to see me and he was telling me about all his problems. And there was a knock on the door, and entered Jean Claude. Jean Claude has Down Syndrome and, relaxed and laughing, and he just shook—I didn't even say, "Come in." He came in, and he shook my hand and laughed and he shook the hand of Mr. Normal and laughed and he walked out laughing. And Mr. Normal turned to me and he said, "Isn't it sad, children like that."

[Audience laughs]

He couldn't see that Jean Claude was a happy guy. It's a blindness, and it's an inner blindness which is the most difficult to heal.

In less than a month, I head down to Durham where I will start the new chapter in my life as an MDiv student at Duke Divinity School. I've been anticipating the move for a while - in fact, I've been anticipating it for more than a year! I will be living with my friend, Jill, near East Campus and about a mile from Dave. I've just joined FreeCycle in an attempt to find a bed and a bike (for free, of course). I have every intention of just loving life down there.

I am really excited to be back in school, though I don't doubt it will take some adjustment. I must say, not having homework perpetually looming over my head for the last few years has been nice. When work is done, work is done (though, in l'Arche, it really did feel like there was always something else that could be done). And, though it took some adjustment to transition from school to l'Arche, I don't doubt it will take some adjustment on my part to do the reverse. Life as a student can feel, often times, disconnected from the real world of real problems, irrelevant, etc. Or, worse yet, it can inflate your ego, encourage self-indulgence, and drain you of your very own life savings while saddling you with debt. Nice. I think Duke Divinity tries hard to contend with these things as an institution dedicated to training up the next generation of ministers. But some things are inescapable. The Academy is the Academy wherever you go, whatever you study. It favors a certain class of people, a certain disposable income.

Yesterday at l'Arche, Fritz, Eric, and I were playing soccer in the backyard. It was all pretty boring. Fritz wasn't really paying much attention and the ball would always sail past him and he would have to wander off to find it. He really just wanted to talk about his mother and his sister, and his friend Kevin who has seizures. And Eric always had to stop the ball with his foot and position it just so before kicking it. But as we played, Eric would periodically exclaim, "What fun! I'm having so much fun!" Eric takes delight in pretty much everything. He is a dear soul. And Fritz is always so caring, so kind and easy-going. For the past 22 months, these core members have been my teachers. As cliche as it is, they have taught me things that quite literally can't be taught in the classroom. I worry a little that I'll forget these things when I'm away from l'Arche, that I'll forget how to "be good" as Fritz puts it.

Here are some pictures from Fritz and Hazel's joint birthday party about a month ago.

I had a great weekend accompanying my friend Joni to the l’Arche at Western Regional Gathering. Each year we have a get together/celebration of all the l’Arche communities in the West (CA, WA, OR). We met in Tacoma this year and had a very special guest. Each year Jean Vanier, l’Arche’s 80 year old founder joins a region for their gathering and this was our year.

This was a very special event because this is the last time Jean will be visiting a Regional Gathering. He’s ready to return to his home community in Trosly, France. He spoke poignantly about growing old and the need to spend time being present to his aging body, to give care to others and finally to receive care from others before he dies.

There were a couple things that surprised me about his conversations with us. He spoke very passionately about his need for Jesus, the sacraments, times of prayer and meditation. L’Arche (at least in the US – especially in the NW) has tended towards what I call a “lowest common denominator spirituality.” While l’Arche grew out of the Catholic church and the experience of being drawn to the crucified, disabled God, more and more our communities are called to welcome men and women from a variety of faith traditions. This has not been done well and more and more of my friends who join l’Arche are astonished by the secular humanism that is now the rule of our community life.

In other words, instead of finding creative ways to honor our diversity while standing near to the heart of the God of Israel who called forth l’Arche, the attempt of our community in Portland has been to try and see what we all have in common and to smooth over any potential controversy with tolerance. It’s nasty political liberalism, basically what a community for the disabled would look like if founded by John Rawls. Damn the doctrinarians.

Somehow I was under the impression that this was where Vanier stood on religious diversity. I was wrong. It was pretty clear that he was struggling through this issue and when we talked he directed me to some unpronounceable French theologians who have written on this topic. (Shocking fact 2: French theologians are writing about l’Arche.) But his own deep sense of religious conviction, his rootedness in Catholicism and his very specific call to be near Jesus were all wonderful revelations.

The other surprise was how often he spoke about the impending crisis the disabled in our communities will face in light of the new eugenics. Based on what I’ve heard, most people in my community are pro-choice, pro-eugenics, pro-euthanasia political liberals. Jean spoke about the consistency of our commitment to care for the weak – the unborn, the soon dead, the critically injured, the genetically compromised. I never hear anyone in l’Arche talk about the larger witness of our life to producers of knowledge. That’s because we have lived mostly cloistered from these issues.

I was very encouraged by meeting Jean and experiencing his unbelievable gentleness. Seeing him interact with our friends was the closest I’ve come to being able to understand God’s preferential option for the poor. Jean lavished his love on our weakest, our most profoundly needy. It was a beautiful thing to see, not only from Jean but from all the assistants. To see 200 people, half with disabilities and the other half finding joy and promise in them – it was the kingdom, my friends.

Maybe I'm thinking about Eve and Joon because I recently watched Robert Altman's Vincent & Theo (1990), about another cuckoo, Vincent Van Gogh and his complicated relationship with his brother Theo. It was depressing and uneven, as many Altman films are, but I liked it nevertheless. Perhaps because I, too, am depressing and uneven.

Depressing, optimistic, whatever. All of the above and more. Therefore I finally put myself out there on facebook, which I think I've been avoiding for the past two years in the interest of NOT doing something trendy for once. Conformists like us all have to stake out at least one way to not be a lemming, right? (Same reason I'm not going to drive a hybrid, or probably get tats and piercings... I prefer to display my distinctiveness in what I say and do, not how I look.)

The cool part about facebook though --which, I know, will be stating the obvious for those of you who participate (sorry) -- is the prospect of turning up old friends and returning them to New Friend status. Perhaps even friends you didn't know you had, people you thought had dismissed you in high school as a dope, or nice but irrelevant. That's the experience I'm having, anyway. Acceptance (or at least tolerance) from unexpected sources.

Still, nothing beats honest face-to-face conversation, like the splendid time that was had by all at the L'Arche Chicago Eighth Anniversary event on Sunday, June 22nd. My friend Spencer Foon was honored, along with State of Illinois disabilities advocate Sheila Romano. Sue and I caught up with old friends, made a few new ones, and just enjoyed the smiling faces of the core members.

Two highlights: Spencer in a suit and tie (it will be another five years before I see that again), and Reba/Sonshine Group pal Ron Polzella looking hale and healthy... and winning a bottle of wine in the raffle! I'll drink to that, Big Ron.

Here's Martin Scorsese's MySpace site, which I assume is fairly new and is mostly being used to promote his recent Rolling Stones concert flick/rockumentary, Shine a Light. Sure, sites like this are a boldface grab for attention, more marketing than art. But Marty's such a fascinating guy that I just love to hear him talk or write, even if he is just trying to put butts in the theater seats. The Stones... I can take 'em or leave 'em. But Marty's my main man.

They Might Be Giants takes over the world: This band still makes great, strange pop music (get the podcast). They do kids' music and books. They did music video "bumpers" for Disney Channel, and some mighty fine kids' DVDs. And for a couple of years now, they've done the music for a number of Dunkin' Donuts commercials. The added advantage of having John & John involved with DD is that Rachel Ray just ends up looking that much more stupid and plastic... which I did not think was possible. I may go see The Giants at Milwaukee's Summerfest next month. Anyone wanna join me?

Why we should never say never: I once mentioned here how the cutesy pictures of cats sprinkled all over the internet are nothing but a stupid, poor use of the technology, and that they show how shallow we are as a culture. Then I saw this cat site  (which I first heard about on Stephanie Miller's radio show --Thanks, Mama!) Wilford Brimley is a golden god! (And his pal Stephen Colbert ain't so bad, either.) Cat photo sites are still stupid... but who says brilliant and stupid can't ride in the same car together once in awhile?

Brilliant, lesser-known foReiGN folk-rock: Kate Rusby (England), Richard Thompson (England), the late Serge Gainsbourg (France), Crowded House (New Zealand),  and Sarah McLachlan (yeah, Canada's not so foreign, but it's different and conscientious enough, in Sarah's case, to merit a mention).

Men's Rites of Passage: Father Richard Rohr and his male spirituality project is coming to Illinois this summer, August 13-17. Not clear yet if I will be able to make it. It's a big 4-day commitment. But on the other hand, probably life-changing. Go to MALES website for details.

Wag the Dog & other David Mamet films. Tha man can flat-out write. Hands down, one of the smartest and funniest voices in American theater and film in the past fifty years. And a Chicago product, somewhat. At least he first hit it big here.

The Farrelly brothers' Rhode Island flicks: Me, Myself and Irene; Stuck on You; and Outside Providence. For a regional (if sometimes silly) look at American culture, there's none better than the "Something About Mary" brothers. Our smallest state delivers our biggest laughs in the hands of these distinctively odd, occasionally juvenile gentlemen.

Henry Nouwen's books, in particular The Wounded Healer.

Anything by Kurt Vonnegut, but especially Cat's Cradle. Here's a glorious quote from Kurt:

"Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae."

The end of the internet: http://www.romlist.com/end/ 

-Fritz starting every conversation with "Kevin had a seizure" and answering every question with "My mom."

-Eating dinner with a crowd of people each night.

-$1.00 movie nights at the Arlington Cinema Draft House

-Linda's impersonation of me impersonating her ("Geoooorge....).

-The opportunity to share memories and blessings with people during their celebrations.

-"Beer Accompaniment" with Terrence.

-Hazel laughing at my jokes and competing in staring contests in the van.

-Visiting the statue of Mary with Fritz after prayer night ends.

-Linda rubbing her hands together in delight when she accomplishes a task.

-Long, interesting conversations with Mandy on our many road trips or walks around the block.

-Drinking wine with Dottie in the living room after routine is done.

-Finding the most clandestine way to scoop ice cream in the kitchen.

-Lois - her calming presence, her care, her consistency and commitment to our community.

-Dancing like crazy at our l'Arche holiday parties.

-The spontaneous moments where I find Fritz in the kitchen cleaning, putting away the dishes, and laughing to himself.

-Having ample time to read and rest in my room.

-Happy hour with l'Arche DC folks.

-Helping Linda with her exercises and always being impressed with her perseverance.

-Hearing Alan's movie reviews and sports news.

-Going grocery shopping with Fritz.

-Hazel always seeming to know where exactly I left my keys or my shoes or my purse.
-Having Fritz go through the calendar and tell me about the holidays and happenings of each month, complete with sound effects and hand motions.

-Spending ample amount of time at Murky Coffee with Elaine and Mandy.

-Talking politics with my housemates.
-Fritz's long after-dinner prayer, and the fact that I have it memorized.

This life has been a strange mixture of stay-at-home parent, social worker, pastor, and event coordinator. Good, practical life skills earned, for sure, not to mention learning how to posture myself towards the vulnerable and how to identify/come to terms me with my own vulnerabilities. There was a time where this sort of work was frightening and foreign. Though I felt I embodied certain abstract notions of kindness and positivity before coming to l'Arche, I never understood myself as the type of person who could love others in practical, physical ways. Nor could I have ever described myself as a patient person, a listener, a selfless caregiver, a gentle presence. In fact, I think most people who come into l'Arche wouldn't immediately characterize themselves in these ways. And those that do will find that they've never had opportunity to practice patience, forgiveness, generosity. We just don't live in a society where these virtues can naturally be practiced. They have to be conjured up, dusted off, put to good use, else they will atrophy and dissolve.

L'Arche is a place where we can be more fully human. It is a place where we can practice the long-forgotten disciples of simplicity, peace-making, and presence. And it is a place where we can express our hopes, fears, joys, and pains in real, tangible ways. L'Arche provides us, core members and assistants alike, with the opportunity to live righteously in a way that our larger society cannot. We cannot expect the woman in front of us at the post office to treat us with dignity and respect, because this is not the culture of bureaucracy. There, efficiency is paramount, as well as detachment, isolation, and autonomy. We cannot expect the driver behind us on the Beltway to practice selflessness, because this is not the culture of the Beltway. In these places, we have no common culture that informs our behavior or tells us how to love one another. We may have basic common courtesy, but it's a politeness rooted in Kant's Social Contract, not in the theological narrative of the Church.

In a more broader sense, we need the Church to be our common culture, the Body that informs our way of being and doing, of buying and voting. Just as l'Arche has established a way of life for its community members (based on the Beattitudes), the Church must provide a place for us to act out the tenants of our faith. This is why disputes within parishes or dioceses that are settled in a secular court provide no witness for the Church as an alternative culture. This is why parishes that are more comfortable modeling themselves off of the social and fiscal policies of the Republican or Democratic parties have lost their prophetic voice.

L'Arche's uniqueness to the surrounding culture, as well as to any other organization that cares for the developmentally disabled, is so telling. People come to l'Arche and are changed because they've never experienced anything like it before - not in their places of work, their families, or even their churches. Guests who come to dinner talk of their experiences as "brief encounters with Jesus." Core members enter l'Arche after years of living at home or in institutions, and finally, finally they become fully alive. Assistants come to serve and find that they, too, are experiencing healing and growth as they never have before. L'Arche is a different place, an alternative way of being. And it's appeal is wide-spread.

Yes, yes, my time in l'Arche has taught me about myself, about relationships, and community, and loving in tangible ways. But most profoundly, l'Arche has provided me with a vision of what the Church Universal ought to be. It's said that l'Arche is not a solution but a sign to the world, pointing to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. More often than not, the Church believes that She Herself is the solution, when in fact She is called to be the vessel of God's Good News, pointing others towards that which is greater than Herself. If the Church was less concerned about solving problems and more concerned about faithful witness, orthodox theology, and communal identity as a people bound up in the narrative of the Christian faith, perhaps our experience of church would be more transforming, life-changing, challenging, and disciplining, just as l'Arche is. Perhaps the Church would finally start acting like the Church.

“Your body needs to be held and to hold, to be touched and to touch. None of these needs is to be despised, denied, or repressed. But you have to keep searching for your body's deeper need, the need for genuine love. Every time you are able to go beyond the body's superficial desires for love, you are bringing your body home and moving toward integration and unity.”  --Henri Nouwen

This morning I posted these lines, simply because I liked them. No apparent reason. Ha! Once posted, they began to speak ... asking that I look a little deeper: What is it you yearn for? How do you differentiate everyday touching (such as with family and friends, by men and women, strangers and acquaintances) from intimate and sexual touch? Do you receive them differently, give one more weight than the other? How much touch gets past the censor, sinks to your core? What are you afraid of?

Henri Nouwen (1932 – 1996), Dutch-born catholic priest and writer, taught at Yale and Harvard divinity schools, and spent his last ten years living with intellectually disabled people at L'Arche community in Toronto.

Following the breakdown of a personal relationship, he suddenly lost his self-esteem, his energy to live and work, his sense of being loved, even his hope in God. Here's an excerpt from a journal he kept during that prolonged crisis. Each time I read his words, I feel geborgen, a German word meaning ' understood, protected, cared-for.' As this dear man writes to himself, he speaks to us all. 

"You have an idea of what the new country looks like. Still, you are very much at home, although not truly at peace, in the old country. You know the ways pf the old country, its joys and pains, its happy and sad moments. You have spent most of your days there.  ...

"Now you have come to realise that you must leave it and enter the new country, where your Beloved dwells. You know what helped and guided you in the old country no longer works, but what else do you have to go by? You are being asked to trust that you will find what you need in the new country. ...

"Trust is so hard, since you have nothing to fall back on. Still, trust is what is essential. The new country is where you are called to go, and the only way to go there is naked and vulnerable."

source: Nouwen, H.J.M. (1996/1997). The inner voice of love: a journey through anguish to freedom. London: Darton, Longman, and Todd, p.18.

Earthen Vessels

By Mark Nielsen, Feb. 2006

We are made of the same stuff,

You and I:

Earth

(Noble and simple, elemental even)

And Water,

Living Water,

(Not pure, but teeming with life,

The Life that swam around

When Time was an infant –

Felt but not seen ).

Call me Mud Boy. 

The only difference between us

Is that I was molded into a pitcher,

While you are an exceptionally beautiful vase.

I was made for humbler purposes:

To hold water

Or spirits--

To be filled and emptied

At the Potter’s will.

I do not have a lovely design;

Nothing that says “Look at me!”

What matters is what’s in me,

What I can pour out

For you,

And the ones I love.

You, on the other hand,

Were made to shine.

(Though I cannot name you,

For I did not make you.)

A beacon of beauty,

Colorful, balanced,

Reflecting the Potter’s finest craftsmanship

In an often ugly world.

Even without a bouquet of flowers

For you to nurture,

Still you remind us all

Of the joy of creation,

And the glory of Creation.

But let us not forget

That you were once mud,

Like me.

We each have grace and beauty

That is our own,

Our gift.

We were both baked

In the same fire;

Both hardened,

In the oven of severe mercy,

Then checked for cracks,

Lovingly fixed,

Marked with the Master’s thumbprint

And given away

(Never meant to be bought

Or sold).

May we always serve the purpose

For which we were created;

May that always be enough,

And may we never forget:

We are all made of the same stuff.

Inspired by several friends with disabilities, and yet also with tremendous gifts. Poem given as a gift to religious leader & disabilities advocate Jean Vanier, founder of  L'Arche . Vanier is currently working and residing in France, though L'Arche communities exist throughout the world, including one that I support here in Chicago.

Almost a year’s gone by since I lost my first* love (for more, see the top-of-page tab on grieving). More recently I’ve been struggling with getting her out of my system. It’s as if she’s still part of me, embedded in every fibre of my physical and emotional self. Places, scents, and sensations continue to remind me of her. Each time I wince with the memory of loss. If only I could “let go,” I’d be free again.

Letting go of what, exactly? Haven’t I tried to let go of the memory of her, of the love given and taken away, of the extraordinary feelings of ecstasy our union had presented us with? Yes, but not quite. What I’m called to let go of, I’m beginning to realize, is clinging itself: to what used to be and to what I’d wished would last forever.

“Letting go is the essence of the spiritual life, the heart of spiritual practice,” write Jack Kornfield and Christina Feldman, “beginning to let go brings an immediate and profound revelation. Only when we are no longer full of opinions and expectations are we truly receptive. Only when we are no longer afraid of loss do we begin to open in a whole-hearted way to the world around us. … In the discovery of aloneness is the discovery of what it means to be truly together with others. In travelling this path of inner transformation, we are encouraged to let go of everything, to relinquish every form of clinging [my emphasis]. We are encouraged to let go of preoccupations with the past, investment of the future, and clinging in the present. We are encouraged to renounce our images, expectations, fears, and guilt.”

No kidding! Relinquish every form of clinging. Renounce expectations and fears. Don’t hold on to guilt. What was, was—and what is, changes before your eyes. Freedom comes from being fully present with what is right before our eyes, not what was of what we’d hoped it would become.

“Do not hesitate to love and love deeply,” writes Henri Nouwen. “You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. [no kidding!] When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love ever more fruitful. It is like a plough that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a strong plant. Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can stand straight in your pain and let the soil on which you stand become richer …”

* borrowed from the Leonard Cohen song line "You're my first love / and my last / there's no love after you." 

Jack Kornfield and Christina Feldman are meditation teachers associated with Spirit Rock. The quote is from Soul food: stories to nourish the spirit and the heart, 1996, Harper, p.309. 

Henri J.M. Nouwen was a Dutch-born catholic priest who taught at Yale and Harvard Divinity Schools and spent the last ten years living amid people with developmental disabilities at Toronto's L’Arche. Quote from The inner voice of Love, 1996, Doubleday, p.49.

First, life in this home was tumultuous, to say the least, when I first arrived. There were some major turn-over in assistants and leadership and some huge governmental hurtles to overcome before this house even opened. Plus, all of us were new -- core members and assistants. There were no routines, no traditions, no foundation upon which we could base our life together. We had to figure out how to do everything anew while also abiding by the simultaneously strict and ambiguous regulations of the county and state government (we were the first group home to open in Northern VA in more than a decade).

Also, because we were stressed, relationships in the house were stressed. You couldn't gather together people so different from one another even if you tried. And we were living under the same roof, buying groceries together, working together, essentially spending our entire lives together. And yet, there was some serious interpersonal tension hanging over our heads for a while there. As we were attempting to facilitate positive, healthy relationships among the core members, we were having our own issues that were either ignored or denied. Though I wasn't a member of one of the "opposing" parties, I was affected greatly by the simmering conflict.

Along with this, one of our core members began to mentally and emotionally disintegrate. These downward spiral started off subtly but generally grew, ranging from depression to full-blown outbursts to a week or two of hypomanic elation. Yikes. No week was like the next. And we had few, if any, supports in regards to good psychiatric care and counseling. We had to juggle this core members volatile moods with the basic needs and cares of the house and other core members, and this was no easy task. Our team meetings would stretch so long sometimes, up to 3 hours, because we had so much to talk about. And we were exhausted.

Then, come May 1st of 2007, I became the Home Life Coordinator, essentially taking on responsibility for the tensions and anxieties already present in the house. Along with adjusting to my new role as head of house, this core member took a turn for the worst and went into the pysch hospital twice. An assistant left rather unexpectedly and we struggled to find a replacement in the midst of the crisis we were experiencing in the house. And I was biting off more than I could reasonably chew -- performing all the duties of leadership while still working 40 hours a week of routines and accompanying a core member. I became so stressed that I started losing weight and developed acid reflux. I had difficulty sleeping and essentially avoided being in the house when I wasn't on call.

After toiling through several months of chaotic life in the home (primarily centered around this one core member), we made the tough decision of discharging this core member from the home. We couldn't meet his needs. We couldn't support him in his mental illness. We were in way over our head. And yet we loved him and cared for him and dreaded seeing him go. But, as we suspected, life afterwards was just...easier. Relationships in the house were gelling, other core members were happy, new assistants were being oriented and taking on more responsibility, I was building strong friendships with other members in leadership. And, on top of all this, I was learning to let go of some of the unrealistic expectations I had for myself as Home Life Coordinator. I learned to follow through with the important tasks, to not take myself too seriously, to say no to things I knew I couldn't do, to lead by example, to have fun and laugh when mistakes happen. In a sense, my newly found comfort with my newly acquired role may be the internal factor that has made life easier now.

When I look back at the first 8 months of our life as a l'Arche home, I am amazed we came out on the other side! This is not to say, of course, that we never experienced times of joy and grace within our community. There were plenty of those...countless good memories, funny stories, interesting experiences. But life was, in fact, hard. And I think I realize that now that I'm on the other side, breathing a sigh of relief, sleeping in late, spending my weekends at l'Arche rather than fleeing to my parents' house. Humans are highly adaptable, and we adapted....we made do. But we weren't necessarily thriving.

I have much to say to other l'Arche communities who, more often than not, "make do." They hire assistants who are clearly inept or carry weight baggage into the community. They bring in core members who cannot be fully supported in a l'Arche setting, core members who ultimately toxify community life. They become so stuck in tradition and ritual that they are no longer open to new ideas, new ways of doing things. They keep the same individuals in leadership positions for years on end, individuals who may not be doing their job to the best of their ability. Blah blah. There are ways to be a healthy community, and there are ways to pollute a healthy community.
Life is easier now, and I like to think that it's not just the external environment that has prompted this change, but my own internal environment. I like to think that I could face any number of hardships, knowing that I have faced tremendous hardship in the past. I like to think that the challenges of l'Arche have changed me, made me a better human being - more patient, less fearful, more realistic, less anxious.

All this being said, my official "end time" is the end of May -- that leaves me with 3 more months. Hard to believe! Feels like I just got here, and now I'm the "old and experienced one" admits the new assistants. I am feeling good about tying up my time here in l'Arche, but I obviously have some ambivalent feelings about leaving. I've been "living l'Arche" since I graduated from college, so it's pretty remarkable to think about doing something else. But isn't that what my life has been for the last few years? Transition here, transition there. Packing up, moving along, meeting new people, saying good bye.

Tu aimes te dépasser ? Les handicapés intellectuels aussi ! Vois comment ils aident avec cœur des jeunes déficients d’Haïti.

Cap vers les Antilles
C’est quoi, l’Arche ? C’est une communauté qui offre aux personnes handicapées intellectuellement un foyer où elles se sentent appréciées et utiles. À l’Arche Carrefour d’Haïti, tout le monde travaille ensemble, dans un atelier, selon ses capacités. On y fait du mamba, c'est-à-dire du beurre d'arachides. Certains écalent les cacahuètes, d'autres les torréfient dans une barrique au-dessus d'un feu de charbon, d'autres les broient à l'aide d'un moulin. On produit aussi du miel, du maïs et on élève de petits animaux. De quoi occuper tout le monde et gagner un peu d'argent.

Les plus jeunes fréquentent l'école «Cœurs contents». La classe de l'Arche est aussi ouverte aux enfants du quartier. Chacun apprend à son rythme.

Une famille pour Ismaël
Il y a quelques années, le curé a trouvé un enfant de 4 ou 5 ans abandonné. On l'a tout de suite accueilli à l'Arche Carrefour. Ismaël souffre de paralysie cérébrale. Il ne parle pas, ne marche pas, mais il voit et entend tout. Aujourd'hui âgé d'une dizaine d'années, il sait manger seul. Et surtout, il a découvert une famille.

Québec ♥ Haïti
Haïti est un des pays les plus pauvres du monde. Les deux Arches du pays manquent d’argent pour s’occuper de leurs 65 pensionnaires. C’est pourquoi les huit communautés de l’arche du Québec leur viennent en aide.

«Cette année, nous avons fait deux activités pour Haïti, relate Marie-Josée Hardy, qui réside au foyer La Moisson, de l'Arche Mauricie. D'abord, une vente de t-shirts. Comme dessin, on a choisi deux bateaux avec des gens qui se donnent la main. Cela représente les deux arches du Québec et d'Haïti qui s'entraident. On les a tous vendus !»

Ensuite, les pensionnaires ont organisé une vente de garage, qui a très bien marché. «On a aussi fabriqué des tirelires pour chacun des trois foyers de l'Arche Mauricie et à l'Atelier, dit Marie-Josée. Pendant toute l'année, les gens donnent. Tout va à Haïti.»

L'Arche est une organisation internationale fondée en 1964 par le Canadien Jean Vanier. Il voulait sortir les personnes ayant une déficience intellectuelle de l'oubli et de l'indifférence. Il existe aujourd'hui plus de 130 communautés de l’Arche, dans une trentaine de pays. Leurs 5 000 membres forment de véritables petites familles. L'entraide est un principe fondamental de l'Arche et plusieurs pays du Sud sont jumelés à des pays du Nord, comme Haïti et le Québec.

On compte au Québec 224 000 personnes ayant une déficience intellectuelle. Les huit communautés de l'Arche en accueillent 123.

Haïti en bref
Superficie : 28 000 km2
Population : 8,5 millions d'habitants (Québec : 7,6 millions)
Capitale : Port-au-Prince
Espérance de vie : 52 ans (80 ans au Canada)
Haïti occupe la partie ouest de l'île d'Hispaniola, dans la mer des Antilles. Haïti est le moins développé des pays des Amériques : sept habitants sur dix vivent sous le seuil de la pauvreté.

"To be calm and quiet all by yourself is hardly the same as sleeping, but mean being fully awake and following with close attention every move going on inside you. Silence requires the discipline to recognize the urge to get up and go again as a temptation to look elsewhere for what is close at hand.

"It offers the freedom to stroll in your own inner yard, and to rake up the leaves there and clear the path so you can easily find the way to your heart. Perhaps where will be much fear and uncertainty when you first come upon this 'unfamiliar terrain,' but slowly and surely you will discover an order and a familiarity which deepens your longing to stay home."

Henri J.M. Nouwen (1972). With open hands: bringing prayer into your life, p. 19. Nouwen was a Dutch-born Catholic priest who taught theology at Yale and Harvard and spent the last ten years of his life at l'Arche, a community of people with developmental difficulties in Toronto. 

PS: I continue to be delighted and baffled by the universality of spiritual practices which, in their essences, defy the territorial boundaries humanity has created (and continues to maintain) between one religion/faith and another.

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Happy New Year to all of you, & especially my differently abled sisters and brothers. And my heart goes out to your parents whose love knows no bounds ... you are heroes, indeed...Jean Vanier has books you can read to help you along the way. Even if your kid is not different, then too read him for inner strength.

Lord of this universe, I pray for us, the uncaring ones, to give us the Spirit to love our fellow women and men who have more challenging lives than us. Help us to make this world a better place for them...

Images: I thank Laughteryoga and UN for the photos. They say that images speak more than words. So I have found their images the best to convey the spirit of New Year. Thanks to both of you, again...

I'm sorry, what?  You don't think the guy you voted to convict is guilty anymore?  Two days after delivering that verdict?  You can't return a GUILTY vote.  They don't come with Gift receipts.  You were pressured to vote guilty?  By whom?  By the religious nut who made everything "symbolic" or by the two old ladies "quilting", or the single mother, who exactly scared you into ruining a man's life.

Grow up.  Take some accountability for your actions instead of running to the New York Times and talking about how awful the other 11 jurors were.  I wasn't aware they let foreign born citizens sit on juries.  Perhaps, they shouldn't. 

I despise you, sir.  I despise what you stand for, I despise your turntable ethics, and I despise your sissy name.  If Mr. White IS innocent, it's your fault he was convicted, and nobody elses. There's really nothing else I can say, you let 6 women, and 4 men bully you into sending another man to prison and then you have the balls to tell everyone you were bullied?  What kind of man are you?  It's this kind of spine that ensured Apartheid in South Africa.

You, sir, are a giant bitch.  I can't even come up with the right words to show what little esteem I hold you in.  But I'll try.  You are Vegan Catshit.  Nope.  You're So Larche.

The Christian community: what does it mean? Do I talk about a necessarily "good" community or sometimes a "bad" one? Once part of a community, do I have to be constantly with my community members or am I allowed time off? For the last year I experienced what it has meant to be a part of the Jesuit Volunteer community (JVC) and also work as an assistant for in The Ark (L`Arche). In the following article I have attempted to give my own answers to the questions posed above.

Firstly: To Be Part of The Community Is A Decision

It is a long-term decision but it also requires a re-commitment to that decision on a daily basis. Sometimes I can feel "now I need to push myself to stay longer with these people, to serve them, to listen to them, to share with them my opinions and at least somehow like them". But other times I do not feel that it is an effort. I am simply enjoying the "staying, serving, listening, sharing.....etc." Thanks to God`s grace most of the time I feel very rich, very uplifted, simply loved!

As an example of being part of the community let me tell you about my broken accordion. My parents decided to send me my accordion.

The parcel arrived in due course but the instrument inside was seriously broken. I carried the case home bearing its its weight on my head and hurt my shoulders in the process. It was also raining and I went down with a bad dose of flu. Mariana, Sigita and Alan, people from my community, took pity on me. Alan helped to open the accordion and started looking on the internet for someone to fix it. Mariana and Sigita stayed with me and made me a cup of tea. Next day, they bought me a big mug for more hot tea, because I stayed in bed sick. The story of the accordion continued to grow. The following months lots of people were involved in the repair of the accordion. Sergio our co-ordinator, Steven our community partner and James another co-ordinator were also involved. By Christmas day I had received the repaired instrument and could play carols, using it in the Jesuit chapel. My community shared in my happiness at having my accordion back to play once more.

To be a part of the community is a free-will decision of each person in the community. If one part of this "body" does not want to belong to the body anymore, there starts a long painful separation process. A person can detach themselves or be detached from the community in many ways but while we are still praying for them they are still connected with "the tree of the community". In this way membership of the community is a two way process between the individual and the rest of the community.

I never say that my community is "bad" or "good", Because it is a living body. It is very dynamic and it is changes every minute. Many times I have to say to myself: do not judge! We are all trying to live together. It is fragile, it relies on trust and a never-ending attempt to understand or at least accept what I am not able to understand. I can say: "this is rubbish" about some action, opinion or work, but not about a person or the community!

The Community Is Something That Attracts and Welcomes Other People

During the year, after the basis of our community had been built, when we had agreed the rules and established a prayer time together, when we had fun together, watched a lot of movies, played a lot of games, there was still something missing. It was important to be mostly just together, but soon some people appeared who were interested in who we are. Most of them became our very good friends. What is interesting - when somebody got a friend, the others from the community soon met them and also became their friends. The people around see us as one integer and always ask how the rest are doing?

I am going now to focus on Christian (JVC) values in the community and how we put them into practice. Because the Community is a place where it is possible to share, learn and reflect on Christian values.

A Simple Lifestyle n The Community

I have to say, that I still do not understand exactly what this means. What I learned is that it is not just about simple accommodation or simple food or cheap clothes. I used to live and eat much more simply (and that was still more extravagantly than people from the poor countries). It is more about using what I have, what I found, received and made. It is more about "doing" in a sense "creating" rather than consuming. I found out, that we do not need so much to be happy, have fun or have a great time. Let me give you a small example.

One day I mentioned to my community that I had not had a bath for more than 10 years. Some time after, Sigita asked me if I had a free hour. I was quite busy, but followed her. I was surprised when she covered my eyes with a scarf and took me to the bathroom. There was a gentle glow coming from the light of several candles decoratively arranged around the room. Soft fluffy towels were folded ready for use while a selection of fragrant soaps added a touch of luxury to the scene. A gentle perfume suffused the atmosphere, steamy from the hot luscious bath that had been pre-prepared especially for me. My favourite Czech music was playing softly in the background. "Enjoy your bath!" Sigita said. I really did! The next day I wrote to my friends about this example of the simple "love" style.

Social Justice In the Community

When we look at each other as brothers and sisters, all with the same basic needs and rights, when we share troubles from our own countries, it helps me to understand the situation in Liverpool and in the wider world. It has helped me to understand why Sigita was crying for a refugee mother who had to be sent "back". It helped me to empathise with the old women who is a victim of violence and whom Mariana visits. Also why Alan`s placement, a Methodist church, welcomes people in their bread-making workshop. It also helped me understand Jesus - why He decided to die for all of us - and why one of the most powerful actions that we can do for those without justice is to give them our friendship and prayer.

Spiritual Life in the Community

It is a great gift that I live with people, who understand that I like to pray or even that for me, God exists! We support each other in this way. Once a week someone prepares a prayer for the others. The prayer is always different and provided in an original way. The prayers also reflect what is happening around us. For example: I received a gift that provided the material to make your own "bath bomb". I decided to use it for my community prayer. One community of the JVC seemed to have some troubles, so we offered this prayer for them. Let me explain. Each of us made an original bath bomb, the size and design of which was up to the individual. One evening we took our bath bomb and as we said a prayer we threw them in to the Mersey. Each one floated differently and our prayer followed them. Other types of praying together included saying the rosary in different languages (with the responses in English) or imaginative prayer etc.

Finally I have to mention my placement at L`Arche community. The chance to work here has been a great gift for me. I work in the weaving room and once a week with the sports group. After a few months I also started a new workshop with a "drama group", where house assistants, core members and workshop assistants meet together.

In L`Arche there are also houses where assistants and people with learning difficulties live together. I am not part of these houses, but I visit them and have a lot of friends there. What is magical is when the program for those assistants finishes, they still like to return to the communitiy. Many of them continue to work here, because of friendships with disabled persons. They love them even if the work is difficult and after the program - they miss them. L`Arche celebrates festivals and also anniversaries and birthdays for everyone there. One example from many: when Peter, one of the core members turned fifty, all of us dressed in striped clothes because he loves stripes. When one woman died, we planted a rose for her in the garden, while singing a song about her and sharing stories from her life.

This year is special for L`Arche Liverpool, because they are celebrating their 30th birthday. My JVC community joined L`Arche for these celebrations and took part in them. Mariana helped me with a presentation of the drama group (she played part in a fairy tale) and Sigita helped in the prayer of Pentecost. Alan decided to join L`Arche next year as a house assistant.

Some time ago I asked myself the question "What is the Christian community?" but I lacked the necessary experience needed to truly answer it. After a year spent living and working as part of a community I feel that I have gained a basic knowledge of Christian community living although my experiences continue to shape and deepen my understanding all the time. The opportunity to write an article on these experiences has been a wonderful chance for me to reflect on the past year and on how these experiences have culminated in me receiving so much more than I anticipated.

Lucie was a JVC volunteer 2006-7. She volunteered at L'arche's Liverpool workshops.

for your friday afternoon entertainment: katy st. clair's uncouth and heartwarming essay on why her group home friends love huey lewis and the news, and why developmentally disabled people need to take back the word "retarded".

i dare you to read this in your cube and not bust out howling.

It's wild to think about l'Arche no longer being a central part of my life. When I first start, one month after graduating from Gordon, everything felt so foreign and I felt so inadequate. In school, I was valued for my intellect, my ability to think "big thoughts," to theorize and conceptualize. Moving into l'Arche Nehalem in Portland prompted me to confront a part of my self that I had rarely, if ever, encountered. In l'Arche my theories and big thoughts, my writing skills and verbal fluency mattered little. Instead, my ability to tangibly care for others, to be patient and listen well, to enjoy the small details of life have been primary. The transition was disconcerting. Interacting with bodies was more difficult than interacting with ideas. In some ways, this still remains true for me, but I recognize now how important it is for people like myself, so easily caught up in their heads or their future plans, to be pulled down to earth.

I remember being so angry and reactionary my final year or two at Gordon, and I felt myself slipping into disillusionment and bitterness. There is a passionate anger that can drive us to do justice and love mercy, but there is also a destructive anger that burns like wildfire and can consume us if we aren't careful. Passionate anger yearns for righteousness. But the anger I was beginning to feel sought to destroy. I've seen this anger in a lot of disillusioned Gordon grads - this is the process of dying to Self. But what of rebirth? Most of us are living in limbo now, not dead but not reborn.

There are many ways we can climb out of our graves and receive new life. I think living in l'Arche, or any other community centered around the Beatitudes, helps people to be reborn. The Eucharist allows us to participate in our own death and resurrection every Sunday. Relationships, whether romantic or platonic, help us experience the newness of life. Confessing our sins and receiving forgiveness, confronting our weaknesses and accepting them, caring for others and being cared for in return are all ways in which we can be reborn.

I feel I was reborn in l'Arche -- the burn of my cynicism has no place here. I am instead called to peace, to patience, to yearn for justice and mercy, to convey great love with small actions. This does not mean that rebirth is easy or even pleasant. It calls us to let go of our certainty, our egos, to let the seed die in order for new life to take root. It sometimes calls for humiliation and always calls for surrender.

If all goes according to plan, I will be at Duke Divinity School in Durham next year. I can only imagine, of course, how different my perspective of school, and the Academy, will be when I return. Will I feel alienated? Invigorated? Will my time in the classroom feel irrelevant or life-giving? Will l'Arche be a distant memory or a vivid recollection? Will I enjoy my new-found freedom or feel smothered by it? I am interested to discover how my time in l'Arche and impending time in the Academy can coexist, maybe even reconciled.

Another interesting intersection is that of anthropology (the study of the human person) and religion. What does the Judeo-Christian story say about being human? What does Jesus' humanity say about our own humanity? What about the disabled, the "feeble-minded", those broken in body? Last year, the North American Zone of l'Arche held a big anthropology conference where assistants, leaders, core members, and scholars (sociologists, theologians, anthropologists) gathered together to discuss the "Anthropology of Becoming Human." The overall question at this conference was, "What am I discovering and learning from my experience in community in l'Arche about what it means to be human and about what it means to grow towards becoming human?" This is what they came up with:

*Human beings have a profound desire and drive not just to survive but to thrive, to have life in abundance.
*We thrive, not by accumulating more or by creating complexity, but by learning to enter into life's simple moments.
*You cannot thrive as a human being without finding a way to accept human weakness, your own and others.
*We cannot expect people to accept weakness outside the context of a community capable of embracing them in their weakness.

In a nutshell, becoming fully human involves mutuality of relationships, acceptance of our fragility and the fragility of others, and recognition of each human being as uniquely gifted and uniquely limited. This happens in community. L'Arche is one of these. So are family, marriage, friendship, the Church, our churches. In these places, we can experience the life fully human, as God intends.

Now, when we think about the intersection of anthropology and the Market, all hell breaks lose, for the anthropology of l'Arche (and I would argue the Judeo-Christian narrative as a whole) is so at odds with the anthropology dictated by our consumer culture. More importantly, this consumer culture in which we are imbedded does not discriminate between the sacred and secular. All sectors of our lives are subject to mass market consumerism. It is the iron cage. It is the pandemic disease. The quicker we accept this to be true the quicker we can address how and to what degree we are affected.

What is the anthropology of consumer culture? How has the economy shaped our understanding of human beings? Along with religious and philosophical expression, the human person becomes herself a commodity, an object to be bought and sold, as a means to an end rather than end in and of herself. She is valued solely for her appearance and status, he for his ability to produce or compete, they for their ability to consume and be consumed. The market, rather than the person, becomes the mechanism for dictating and transmitting beliefs and behaviors. What is most profitable and cost-effective becomes paramount, rather than what is most desirable for the human person. The anthropology of consumer culture overemphasizes autonomy and individualism (to the point of utilitarianism, life boat ethics, etc) and deemphasizes the common good. Within consumer culture, to be human is to be fundamentally inadequate. Wholeness can only be achieved through the consumption of goods (this car, this cell phone, this perfume, this beer, this plane ticket). Media advertising is saturated with this message. In fact, we're all pretty much drowning in it.

The anthropology of our market culture is diametrically opposed to the anthropology of l'Arche, as lived and taught by Jesus. Where one values humans beings solely and entirely for their humanity, the other values only those persons who can consume (those with capital) or produce (those young enough, smart enough, and healthy enough to hold down jobs). It is no wonder why the poorest of the poor in our nation are below the age of 18 and above the age of 65, disabled, whether socially (as with non-English speaking immigrants, widows, etc) or physically (as with genetic maladies, substance addictions, or wounded veterans) and intellectually (as with the mentally retarded, those deprived of education resources or access, etc), and those who've been historically marginalized (as with people of color, women, those with alternative sexual orientations, etc).

Consumer culture tells us that we aren't good enough, strong enough, safe enough, happy enough, sexy enough, holy enough lest we consume. In fact, the term used for the developmentally disabled in most MRDDA sectors (day programs, residential homes, etc) is 'consumers.' Their consumption of the services provided by the State or County merits their worth - they are consumers of care and assistance. How many of us consider ourselves "consumers" of our parents' care, our spouses' love, our friends' companionship? My relationship with my friends and family is not one based on economic reciprocity or service provision but of mutual love and respect. The developmentally disabled (along with other vulnerable populations) often do not have the luxury of these relationships. They will live most of their lives with no choice but to consume their relationships; "professionals" such as counselors in group homes, case managers, staff members at work, respite workers are all paid to be present - generally, these professionals make up 99% of the DD person's social world.

To value the lives and stories of the developmentally disabled, to accept each individual as they uniquely are, to provide a place for people regardless of race, sex, creed, and ability to enter into relationship with one another is indeed prophetic in the society in which we live. Through its mere humble existence in this self and stuff-obsessed culture, l’Arche (like any other prophetic sign) is waging war against the mendacity that is consumer-dependent human worth. When society tells us to buy more, l’Arche tells us to live more simply. When society tells us we are worthless, l’Arche tells us we are created and loved by God. When society tells us we must be strong, l’Arche tells us we are fragile and in need of friendship. When society tells us we are only as special as the things we consume, l’Arche tells us we are each uniquely gifted. L’Arche here is, essentially, doing the work of the Church, the work of Jesus. L’Arche is no solution, but it is a sign, a way to live out the Kingdom which is here on Earth.

There are countless other acts of Christian resistance to the Empire of Consumer Culture occurring all around us - a family adopting a special needs child, the parish advocating for the rights of rural farm workers, the college students teaching ESL to recent immigrants, the woman caring for her elderly neighbor, the doctor providing free services to low-income families, the businesswoman who builds homes for Habitat Humanity on her weekends, the pastor who visits inmates in the local correctional facility, the youth group members who befriend some homeless men downtown. These acts are counter-cultural in that they illuminate the value of human life beyond what that human life can consume or produce. These acts signify our interrelatedness, the connectedness that we share with one another because of our common humanity. Through our relationships with one another, we are made whole - more fully human. This is the anthropology of the Church.

I wrote a paper last year entitled, “You in Me and I in You: The Role of Community in the Formation of the Authentic Self.” The last few paragraphs tend to sum up well what I think a good anthropology looks like for us as Christians and as human beings. ---

“When I speak of the Self in “relationship” or “community” with others, I do so theoretically: one human being interacting with another, and as a result, both being made whole, giving and receiving mutually. But in actuality, as most of us can attest, being in relationship is rarely this simple. In fact, to extend one’s self to another can be terribly painful. The child must leave home. The student must graduate. The grandparent must pass away. Those whom we love will wound us, and we will wound them in return, however intentionally or unintentionally. Our hearts bear the scars of failed friendships, broken marriages, and wrecked families.

"The Genesis creation myth -- a story of shattered relationships-- has shaped our understanding of each other and the world for thousands of years. The story begins with God bringing forth all of Creation, Earth and Sky, Land and Water, Flora and Fauna. In the Garden of Eden, He creates Adam from the mud of the earth, and seeing that it was not good for man to be alone, He creates Eve from Adam’s rib. In this way, Adam, Eve, and the Earth are made from the same substance and, therefore, share a common unity. This knowledge of interrelatedness allows for Adam and Eve to live in harmony with Creation and their Creator. But through an act of disobedience, this harmony is broken. Humanity becomes estranged from the earth, from each other, and from God the Creator. Adam, Eve, and all of their descendents, are destined to live out the rest of their days attempting to recover the unity they had once experienced in the Garden, when God, Man, and Earth were joined together, interdependent and intimately related.

"Our post-Edenic world is no longer characterized by common unity but by division. Ethnic genocide, misogyny, classism, terrorism, racism, jihad, nuclear proliferation, environmental degradation, are all signs of Creation warring against itself. We have lost the ability to recognize our essential oneness and, instead, have become fixated on that which makes us different from one another. We are strangers, seduced by sectarianism and individualism. And yet, we carry with us the sneaking suspicion that we are somehow not strangers. Some distant, hazy memory we share tells us that, perhaps, we may have been friends in some other time or place.

"As human beings, we are creatures of memory. We carry with us the stories of our past victories and failures, of our union and divorce. Like the Genesis myth, our memory informs us of that which once was, but no longer is. It provides us with a sense of loss, of dissatisfaction with the present reality. But we as human beings are also creatures of hope, capable of envisioning a world far greater than our own. Even as we hurt one another, we seek one another's company. Even with the anguish of miscarriage still fresh, we risk pregnancy again. Even as countless marriages fail around us, we recite our solemn vows. We enter into relationship with one another both tentatively, our memories guiding us, and willingly, our hope enabling us to write a different story.

"What is this story but one both ancient and new - the story of interrelatedness. Consider the words of Hildegarde of Bingen: “God has arranged all things in the world in consideration of everything else” (Fox 279). God, the Creator of all, has crafted the universe as interdependent, where one creation sustains another, where the actions of one affect the well-being of another. When Jesus says, “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me,” he is acknowledging this interrelatedness -- to extend yourself to the Other is to extend yourself to God. In fact, according to the teachings of Jesus, there is no Other; every person is neighbor, friend, sister and brother. The lines between Self and group are blurred. We are members of a common Humanity, fit together as pieces of a puzzle, each “members of mankind” (Merton, No Man… xxii).

"Evolutionary science no longer allows us the option to deny our relatedness to other human beings. As humans, we originate from a single common ancestor -- the evidence is stamped upon the DNA of each person on earth. Not only that, we as earthly creations -- animals, plants, and minerals -- carry within our atoms the same substances that make up the stars in heaven. This earth which we call home was one of billions of planets brought forth into being during the Big Bang, entire universes forming out of one tiny, dense particle. To talk of Human against Nature, Man against Woman, Self against Other, is to create false dichotomies between intimately related entities. We need only remember our origin to become aware of our common unity with Creation.

"To acknowledge our interdependence is to remember life in the Garden, before the lie of “separateness” seeped into our consciousness. We are, in a sense, recovering our wholeness, our authentic Selfhood, when we recognize the interdependent aspects of our existences. As Thomas Merton states, “to live in communion, in genuine dialogue with others is absolutely necessary if man is to remain human” (Merton, New Seeds…, 55). When we discover who we truly are, in all authenticity, the distinctions between “you” and “I” begin to fade. As we remember our origins, we realize that we were birthed from the same womb of humanity, and that you are actually my sister and my companion, uniquely created but intimately related to my very being. With this knowledge, you and I can authentically coexist in community as separate beings made whole through relationship. Frederick Buechner eloquently articulates this understanding of Self and community when he states:

“You begin to understand that in some way your deepest self is the self of all men -- that you are in them and they are in you. You begin to understand not as an ideal but as a reality, an experience, that their pain is your pain, their need your need; that there can really be no getting ahead at their expense, there can be no joy for you until there is joy for them.” (23)

I am glad to have stumbled upon Buechner once again, because life is painful right now (for myself and for those whom I love, which is really one in the same), and reading Buechner is balm for the soul. There are those human beings who, in our moments of pain and darkness, can pull us back to the light. Frederick Buechner is one of those human beings to me.

This year has truly been one of pain and loss, occurring mostly in the last few months. My cats died. Friendships dispersed, or disappeared all together. Devon's mother passed away. A friend miscarried. Dave moved away. These are all sad, sobering things, the things life is made of. But, it has also been a year of growth, of blessings and joys. Spending good time with my parents. Melissa and Jacob's wedding. Visits from friends. Traveling to Portland and Costa Rica. Assuming new responsibilities. Being pleasantly surprised by a new relationship. Enjoying my friendships in l'Arche. Reading good books and enjoying solitude. Discovering my gifts and strengths and capacities. Experiencing forgiveness and kindness within my home. Maintaining friendships. Life consists of these things, too.

One of the many things I appreciate about l'Arche is the emphasis on reflection. We are consistently asked to reflect upon and process our experiences in l'Arche, through accompaniment, retreats, weekly times of sharing, nightly prayer, and personal time. I think that's why l'Arche works, because we are called time and time again to remember. We remember the hardships and the turmoil, and we realize that we survived them; in fact, we even realize that we are better because of them. We remember the anticipation and the excitement and anxiety of first moving in and stumbling around. We remember the week when, in crisis, everyone dropped what they were doing to support one another. We remember the spontaneous moments of excitement - dancing in the kitchen or laughing in the living room. We remember our story, where we have been and where we are now and where we are going. Memory is essential for our life together.

Buechner wrote an essay I really like called, "A Room Called Remember." Here is a passage that resonates.
"We have survived, you and I. Maybe that is at the heart of our remembering. After twenty years, forty years, sixty years or eighty, we have made it to this year, this day. We needn't have made it. There were times we never thought we would and nearly didn't. There were times we almost hoped we wouldn't, were ready to give the whole thing up. Each must speak for himself, for herself, but I can say for myself that I have seen sorrow and pain enough to turn the heart to stone. Who hasn't? Many times I have chosen the wrong road, or the right road for the wrong reason. Many times I have loved the people I love too much for either their good or mine, and others I might have loved I have missed loving and lost. I have followed too much the devices and desires of my own heart, as the old prayer goes, yet often when my heart called out to be brave, to be kind, to be honest, I have not followed at all.
"To remember in my life is to remember countless times when I might have given up, gone under, when humanly speaking I might have gotten lost beyond the power of any to find me. But I didn't. I have not given up. You also are survivors and are here. And what does that tell us, our surviving? It tells us that weak as we are, a strength beyond our strength has pulled us through at least this far, at least to this day. Foolish as we are,a wisdom beyond our wisdom has flickered up just often enough to light us if not to the right path through the forest, at least to a path that leads forward, that is bearable. Faint of heart as we are, a love beyond our power to love has kept our hearts alive."

Melissa, Jacob, and I had a nice, nice time - good beer and coffee. And we visited the farmers' market which was, as always, very cool (and wet) and the Saturday market. It was great to see the folks again at l'Arche, too. I miss Enner (Erin) a lot. Marilyn is still as out of control as ever but seems to have settled into the changes as they've come. And Joni continues to want her nails painted and listening to her IPod. And Adam has taken up tennis. It was nice to be back in a l'Arche home, however briefly, that's been in existence for two decades, where things are a bit more simple, a bit less complicated. Even though Marilyn is out of control, it definitely feels calmer there. Perhaps it's the West Coast thing, as well. Things in the North-west are...nice. Green, organic, quirky, bike-friendly, with mountains that look like mountains rather than mole hills.

I wish I lived in Portland. I'm sure the hipness would grate on my after a while, but I'm still in my Let's-be-hip phase (with one foot out the door), so I think I could handle it for the time being. And I miss living with/near Melissa and Jacob. They live in a nice, tiny apartment with nuns...and rich people down the street. We watched a lot of movies and ate good Cuban Creole food (it exists!) and went to church a lot (take that!). Our friend Tim became Catholic at the Easter vigil service on Saturday night and that was exciting, especially the party afterwards where I stuffed myself with sweets and felt a bit ill. We celebrated Melissa's birthday on Easter, as well. She's old....27. I can't believe I'm going to be 24 next year. I'm almost a quarter of a century old. Dear Lord.

So...maybe I should postpone graduate school (again) and move out to Portland. Mom and Dad said they would follow if M/J and I decided to stay out there. Hmm....I love ending my posts with a thoughtful 'hmmm....'

Anyway, here are something of the things I've learned (about myself, the world, community, etc) via my experience in l'Arche over the last 9 months.

1) Living in community is work. That is to say...any idealized notions regarding community one may have before entering into l'Arche are eventually replaced by the day-to-dayness of life. What we are doing is counter-cultural, so to think that living in community would be cake is rediculous. It takes time, effort, blood, sweat, and tears to make a community function, to meet people's needs, to feed, clothe, and house human beings, let alone make life both interesting and stable. Honestly, if you find community living easy and natural, then you probably aren't living in community. There's a difference between living under the same roof and living in community. It takes effort. And it's worth it.

2) I have a much larger capacity to be patient than I ever thought possible. When I think back on things that would intially make me ancy or annoyed, such as waiting in line at the DMV, I have to laugh. I've never considered myself to be a particularly patient person before, but I realize now that this attribute can be acquired with much practice. All of our core members' conversational styles are centered on pattern and repetition. Several times a day you will hear Fritz refer to someone's medical crisis, his mother's heart attack or Kevin's seizures, despite that fact that these episodes happened years ago. And Linda has a long series of questions that she will ask you upon leaving or returning from some event, or if you are eating an apple after dinner or if you change your clothes or any other seemingly "new and different" activity taking place. And Eduardo inquires inumerous times about where people are even if he knows the answer. And Hazel, who can only articulate a few things at a time, has a tenendcy to repeat those things again and again until she feels she has gotten her point across. As one who finds it annoying to repeat herself or to here repetition of others, my patience in this area has increased (necessarily) 10 fold.

3) The stark distinction we've made between abled and disabled persons is a myth. I may be "normal" developmentally according to societal standards, but I have my fair share of disabilities as the next person, and the "disabled" folks whom I live with have a abilities far beyond my own. I need just as much care and support and assistance as the core members do, but not necessarily in the same areas. When I am upset, Linda is calm. When I am forgetful, Eduardo remembers. When I am lonely, Fritz is my friend. When I am tired, Hazel is full of energy. This is mutuality, the give and take that occurs in community. Where I am lacking, another is strong. This is interdependence.

4) I am more gentle and calm than I imagined. Much like my acquired patience, I seem to have acquired the ability to be calm and gentle (is there any other way to be around the core members?). In reality, our only response to the core members can be calmness and gentleness. When Eduardo's bio-chemical state is causing his anxiety and aggression, I must react with gentleness, even when I feel like being anxious or aggressive in return. This flows into the larger understanding of peace-making as a way of life. Jesus tells us that there is no other way through conflict and hardship but with patient, persistent gentleness, turning the other cheek, responding without violence. I can talk pacifism up and down and all around, but I've only really begun to live it. And in the end, living peaceably is a choice, not some gift we are bestowed or something we are born with or without. We must choose to be gentle and calm in crisis, to control our anger, to love the enemy within us, to love those who hurt us. I would never have characterized myself as a peaceable person, but I can at least live it. Really, it takes practice.

5) I need friends. Not just warm bodies in a room (like most extroverts) but people who care for me and support me and people I can care for and support in return, whether they are present or scattered across the globe. I recognize that there are those individuals are perfectly content to live the rest of their lives alone, who do not prioritize their friends or family above other things, or are satisfied with limited or sporadic communication with loved-ones. But I can't wrap my head around how or why that would be enjoyable. And because I really do value my relationships above all else, I am much more vulnerable to being hurt (which I've most definitely experienced this year). Devon and I were talking about how when relationships fail for us, it is the ultimate devestation. Nothing else compares to it. So letting go of friendships and relationships is very difficult for me, even if it's for the best, even if I'm poured myself out and have received little in return. It's like I walk around with my heart exposed, vulnerable to arrows and other assaults. It's especially hard when others don't realize that about myself. I'm such a sap. But in l'Arche, it really is about relationships.

I think that's it for today.

Before coming to L’Arche, I had no idea how to reconcile my proclivity towards the “big picture” with my desire to be in relationship with the poor. They seemed opposites, or at least the two ends of a spectrum. At one end were the flossers of teeth, the washers of dishes. At the other, the writers and pontificators. But as I have learned, these seeming opposites are actually two sides of the same coin. L’Arche is a lifestyle, filled with moments joyful and mundane. But l’Arche is also an idea, an alternative way of understanding one another and the world, manifested through small, daily acts of care and generosity.

The idea of l’Arche in mind-blowing - a place where people diverse in a myriad of ways join together in mutual relationship to give and receive love. There are few places in the Empire where such mutuality is enacted, if even encouraged. We are constantly pushed to get ahead, climb higher, leave the weakest behind. We fear our neighbors and bomb the Other. We are taught to live by our own rules, no matter the impact our actions have on other things or people. For all intents and purposes, living in caring relationships with one another is downright counter-cultural.

L’Arche is indeed a strange place. But it is this strangeness from the larger culture that makes l’Arche refreshing. I remember one experience I had with a core member, Linda Garcia, that revealed the unique relationships we as core members and assistants share with one another. One afternoon, when inquiring about various members of our household, Linda said to me, “Where is Diane? She’s mine.” I didn’t quite understand at first, and she repeated, “Diane’s mine. She’s mine.” Then it came to me. Diane is Linda’s accompanier, the one who assists her with doctors visits and budget expenses, etc. It is a common occurrence to hear fellow assistants say, “Linda’s mine,” but I had never heard it from the mouth of a core member. Linda was displaying here the mutuality of relationship that is at the heart of l’Arche, where both assistant and core member are responsible for one another’s well being. In a sense, Linda and Diane are each other’s.

Fritz Schloss, another housemate, displays his care of and responsibility for other community members on a daily basis. At least once a day, Fritz will ask you, “Tired?” and he gets much pleasure out of responding to someone’s sneeze with a hardy “BLESS you.” Fritz has an amazing capacity to forgive and forget, as many in our house have witnessed. Just today, after prompting Fritz with some difficulty to brush his teeth and other dreaded tasks, I sat down feel rather defeated, only to have Fritz came and join me on the couch, placing a hand on my shoulder and saying, “You’re a nice girl.” Just the assurance I needed!

Fritz and Linda, along with other core members in our house, are born counter-cultural. Their bodies and minds don’t fit neatly into the mainstream understanding of what it means to be a person of worth. As a member of mainstream culture, I am mired in the seductions and falsehoods the world has to offer. But through their daily acts of love and acceptance, my housemates have become my guides, pointing my towards the joys and promises of the Kingdom.

I have convinced myself for so long that the Kingdom of God is revealed in mighty ways. And yet, Jesus compared the Kingdom to a mustard seed, a lost coin, a buried treasure. This seems counterintuitive -- What sort of Kingdom rules from the bottom up? But, as I and many others can attest, L’Arche is an upside-down place, where the simple details of daily life narrate the bigger story of God’s love for the world. As we continue to negotiate the complexities of this life, may our relationships with one another reflect God’s powerful, subversive work in the world. May we treat one another as holy beings. And may our smallest acts convey the greatest love.